Page 113 of The Guy in the Alley

Well, Chris and I had talked. He was a fair bit older than Sarah, he worked in construction, and we’d discovered we actually had some old friends in common. So we had to stick together. We needed a good, supportive, brothers-in-law type of relationship to put up with two competitive Kaleckis. And here I was, thinking I had been competitive—but those two? Fucking hell.

“We’re gonna play football and volleyball here on the beach,” Trace said. “There’s a barbecue area around here somewhere too.”

I hummed and exhaled some smoke.

Football, huh? That might pose a problem if I wanted to keep my own competitive streak on a leash.

“Honestly, I think we’ll be out here every day,” he went on. “Alvin’s obviously gonna need a daily dose, and Chip and CJ have been talking about Florida all fucking summer.”

True enough.

Trace took a drag and leaned back against my chest. “It’s gonna be a lot different from the trips I’ve taken down here so far. At most, I’ve had Chip to mess around with, but he was too young back then.”

That wasn’t the case anymore. It felt so motherfucking good to have a big family, and this one knocked my old one out of the park. That shit didn’t even compare. Angie and I had grown up with Catholic guilt and drama.

“I hope we can find a day to sneak out for a date too.” Trace glanced back at me. “A quick dinner, at least?”

“Of course we will. You promised the best shrimp po’ boys I’d ever have, so naturally, I have budgeted for that.” I furrowed my brow. “Alvin likes your family, and he has his new tablet. He’ll manage.” Much to our amusement, Alvin really fucking liked Trace’s dad. And it was mutual. The two played cards together, and it was a game for Alvin to see if he could catch Kell cheating.

“I know, but I don’t wanna assume,” Trace replied.

“Hm.”

“Oh, here we go. You’re gonna give me a spiel.”

I grinned. I couldn’t help it.

“Jackass,” I said instead.

“Jagoff.”

I kissed his temple. I was his jagoff.

And…now was the time. It was right now. I wasn’t sure I’d get a better occasion, and I wasn’t even nervous. This was happening.

I trapped my smoke at the corner of my mouth, set down my coffee in the sand, and dug out my wallet.

“What’re you doing? My backrest is moving too much.”

“I’m tryna propose to you. Be nice.”

“Huh?” He leaned forward and looked back at me, visibly confused.

I pinched the rings and held them up. “You wanna be my jackass for life and marry me, Trace?”

A breath gusted out of him, and he dropped the smoke in the sand. Then a big grin lit up his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Okay, I could admit I felt my stomach tightening with unease now. He was gonna say yes, right?

“Fuck yeah, I’ll fucking marry you.”

He yanked the smoke from my lips, and I was lucky it hadn’t gotten stuck, ’cause that shit stung. Then he threw himself at me, and I let the relief crash down on me. Thank God. I hugged him to me tightly and closed my eyes.

“Now I can get Ma off my case too,” he groaned with his own relief. “She’s been hounding me to pop the question, but I wasn’t sure you were on board yet. I was gonna dig while we were down here.”

I chuckled and got the ring on his finger. He was quick to put the other on my finger too.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispered. He snuck in and kissed me quickly, too quickly. “I wanna get hitched at Wrigley.”

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